Leather and Stripes
by Artificial Starlight
Summary: A conversation goes wrong and suddenly they're alone, with nobody to blame but themselves. Even the strongest of people have insecurities... Rated for language. Can be seen as Mello x Matt.
1. Chill

**Leather and Stripes**

Usually Matt didn't particularly care about the state the world was in. Things like the weather didn't mean much to him considering he spent most of his time indoors glued to the couch with a game controller in his hand. But sometimes, such as this, when he ventured past the walls of his small, one bedroom apartment in the middle of Los Angeles, he came to appreciate the sunny or cloudy times of the day. Windy and Rainy weather could be hindering but there were times when he wouldn't mind braving the forces of chilly air and getting wet. Snow, however, beat all other forms of climate changes. There was just something about the mixture of cold crystals falling from the sky in random patterns.

It was beautiful and calming. Not loud like rain when it hit the many surfaces of the world, but you knew it was there nevertheless. And it sent pleasant shivers up the spine when touching the skin.

But most of all, Matt liked what snow resembled; silence, innocence, purity, so easily tainted.

And it was fun. Every time it fell from the sky Matt felt an indescribable joy bubble in his chest and put a bounce in his step, jiggling the bag filled with a box of cigarettes and 23 king sized chocolate bars (the last on the shelf). He jogged up the steps to the lobby of his Apartment complex and through the front doors. Giving a small smile to the desk manager he strolled to the left, walked into the adjoining hallway and up a flight of stairs to the second story. Three doors to the right he pulled out the key and unlocked the door, welcoming the warmth from within.

"I'm back," He called out, toeing off the black boots. There was no answer and Matt set the grocery bag on the kitchen table before walking through the living room in front of the couch. A blond haired man occupied the piece of furniture, black leather adorned the body, golden tresses surrounded the head like a halo, and half a chocolate bar laid in his hand. His eyes were shut, lips slightly parted, and his breaths came in tranquil, even pants. He looked like an angel.

Matt knew better.

"Hey," He called, a hand reaching out to lightly shake his friend's shoulder. "Mello, wake up."

Slowly, the eyes opened, revealing a bright, almost crazed, crystal blue. For a second, the blond just blinked, looking at Matt blankly until his brain seemed to click in recognition. "Did you get the chocolate?"

"Yeah, how are you feeling?"

"Better. I think my fever is gone."

Matt's hand moved up to feel Mello's forehead, testing the temperature, much to the blond's dislike as a very heated glare was sent his way. "Looks that way," He replied before his hand was slapped away, but continued without a beat, "Do you want the solid chocolate bar or should I fix some hot chocolate?"

The glare disappeared rather quickly and suddenly Mello looked quite tired despite his little nap. "Hot chocolate." When Matt moved away and into the kitchen, Mello groaned, "I can't believe I'm sick. It's so stupid."

"It's all this cold weather. It came so suddenly, people everywhere are getting sick," Matt said from the counter, filling up a glass with milk to warm up in the microwave. "It's snowing too."

"Really? Los Angeles usually doesn't get much snow, if at all. How much?"

"A good bit. Enough to cover the ground." They were silent then as Matt heated the milk and dropped quite a lot of chocolate into the cup to melt. Mello stood from the couch, stretching a bit. He looked around, giving a small, almost non-existent sigh before walking across the room to a glass door leading to a small patio, sliding the door open and slipping outside.

When Matt had the mug of hot chocolate ready he followed, his friend outside, shivering when hit with a gust of cold air. "You know, I didn't think I would have to remind you of all people that being out in the snow with nothing on but your skimpy black leather is not a good idea. Especially since you are just recovering from a fever."

Mello sent a half hearted glare to the red head, taking the cup of warm liquid with a little gratitude, making his face twist strangely from the mixed expressions. "Whatever. Being sick is such a waste of time. That little albino shit is probably ahead of me now."

Smiling, the gamer sat down in one of the plastic chairs, leaned back and opened his mouth to catch snowflakes on his tongue. The blond laughed at that, "The snow is probably polluted, you know. You'll get sick, and I am _not_ taking care of you."

"Even if it is polluted I'd have to eat quite a bit of snow to get sick off it. But thanks for showing your concern. I feel the appreciation."

Another sigh came from the blond, louder this time and Matt turned his head to look at him. "What's wrong?"

Swallowing a rather large gulp of hot chocolate Mello took a moment to answer, looking out to the city around them. Watching the silent snow fall as the familiar loud music of the city continued below was captivating. Finally, Mello opened his mouth to answer in a low voice, "I'm just tired."

"Physically or Emotionally?"

"Both."

Matt let out a sigh of his own and, for a second, just allowed himself to sag in the chair in a moment of surrender. "Me too."

"But you're always tired," Was the answer, but the tone was teasing.

"You know what I mean, Mel. This whole thing is so exhausting. Battling Kira _and_ Near is a little too much to handle for much a long period of time. I miss the old days where we could just pick on the kid, and didn't have to worry about it being the last thing we'd ever do."

"Yeah," Mello said, still not looking at Matt. "I miss it too sometimes."

From a normal, rational, point of view, one would say the way Mello acted was merely the way he reflected on the past; remembering the good times shared within his childhood. But when dealing with Mello, rationality was the last thing thing involved in decoding the boy's attitude. Such a calm demeanor for anybody else would be a good thing but with Mello, well, let's just say that Matt was getting worried. "Hey, no worries. We'll get him, Mello. Kira will be caught and Near will look like the fool."

"But what if we don't, Matt?" The question was said so softly, the red head had to strain to hear it over the city's noise. When the words registered he froze.

This was quite the role reversal. Matt was the one suppose to be calm, unbelieving of any results towards what they were working hard for. Mello was suppose to be saying- albeit in a more forceful way with a lot more colorful words, how they would accomplish the impossible. He didn't like this at all.

"What are you saying Mello?"

"L," The single word, a name, was said with a somewhat choked voice. "L died fighting Kira. He was killed even with the help of Watari. He had so much more experience! And Near... he may not have someone he ultimately trusts to help him but he's got the aid of the SPK. We have nothing, Matt!"

"Since when has that ever stopped you," Matt's voice was getting louder, a sure sign of his rising impatience. He was usually so cool headed, especially when regarding Mello as that was the best way to stay alive. But the conversation was foreign to him- never, in the entire expanse of their relationship, did he ever think he'd have this kind talk with his temperamental friend. "Where is this coming from? If you have such little faith then why the hell are you doing this, Mello?"

"I don't know!" And suddenly, those blue eyes were on him, a glint of something flashed before the orbs and Matt's anger reached the top so quickly he would later be astounded. Insecurity was not something Matt ever thought the blond had the right to show.

Standing, the red head moved right up to the blond, shortening the distance between them in a threatening way, something he had not dared to do in years. "Then give up! Walk away right now! Go back to Whammy House and tell them all how you joined the fucking Mafia, blew up your fucking face, and risked your life for nothing! And when all those kids ask you why you quit, what will you say?! I was a coward?"

There was a second where Mello's eyes widened in surprise at Matt's outburst before narrowing in anger, "I'm _not_ a coward!"

"You sound like one," Matt scoffed and turned around, sitting in the chair again, trying to force his anger back into his chest. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes, the last one inside; thank God he had the foresight to buy a box at the store while getting Mello's chocolate. He brought it to his lips along with the cylinder shaped lighter he carried with him everywhere and lit the cancer stick, taking a deep breath of smoke. It warmed him slightly from the chill in the air and worked at his tense nerves. Mello watched this with a icy hard glare that would make anybody else flinch.

"I didn't chase you down to listen to this shit, Mello," He said, letting smoke crawl from his mouth with the words. "I thought you wanted to avenge L, become number one, beat Near, and save the world. If you don't think you can do that, or at least try to, let me know. Cause you're wasting my time."

"If you want to leave then get the fuck out! It's not like I'm holding you here!"

"Are you?! Because the last time I checked this wasn't just some boss and employee relationship. I was under the impression we were partners!"

"Maybe you're_ impression_ was wrong! I don't need a partner, I work alone, that's why I left your ass in the first place!"

He went too far, Mello realized this the instant in which it came from his mouth. But the words were said, and despite their hurtful meaning, both of them knew Mello had meant it. And suddenly, the urge to argue disappeared.

Matt's green eyes, hidden behind orange tinted goggles experienced a burning sensation and his throat constricted. Rolling his thick tongue around his mouth, Matt spoke, "I guess you're right. Sorry if I've been in your way. I suppose I'll take the hint and 'get the fuck out' so you can do your business."

With that, the red head stood, cigarette in his mouth, and slid the glass door open, slipping into the warmth of the apartment. Mello's lips parted, as if telling him that this was the time to protest; to tell his friend that he didn't want him to leave. But the words wouldn't come, getting stuck in his throat and threatening to choke him with meaning.

Silence surrounded him, although he hardly noticed with the torment of thoughts swarming around in his genius of a mind. Blank eyes turned, once more, to stare out at the snow still falling beautifully, unaware of the horrible happenings. He watched. For minutes, or hours he didn't know, but by the time he finally decided to go inside it was dark and his body was numb.

He noticed the lights were out around the apartment and, without paying much attention, strolled past the couch and into the doorway of the only bedroom, one that he and Matt shared. Two beds laid against opposite sides of the room, a desk with a lap top in the middle, against the wall underneath a curtain covered window. A bookshelf with only the barest of books sat to the right; mostly covered by newspaper clippings of Kira murders and tapes of recorded videos Mello had Matt set up. Two doors were on the right; one led to the bathroom, the other was a closet occupied by leather, striped shirts, and jeans.

No Matt.

The blond wondered to his side of the room, stopping short of falling onto his bed when he noticed a piece of paper on the pillow.

_Mello,_

_I'll be back tomorrow to get my stuff. You can take the apartment, I'll have the papers signed over to you by next week._

_Matt_

Mello flopped forward onto the mattress, burying his face into the black comforter, almost immediately feeling his eyes drop. The night was full of dreams in which he felt incredibly alone and helpless. Something was missing, and he knew it was his fault.


	2. Heat

**Leather and Stripes**

The first thing he noticed upon waking up that morning was the rather bitter and disgusting taste in his mouth and the fact that he couldn't breath properly. Slowly, other complaints from his body made themselves known; his muscles were achy, head stuffy, eyes crusty… the problems kept coming.

Mello sat up in a daze, looking around the room with squinted eyes. It was too bright; the blinds on their small bedroom window were wide open, letting the hated sunlight in. He was so tired last night that he didn't bother to close them. Clothes from yesterday still hung on his form and he didn't brush his teeth. His head felt clogged, his throat scratchy, and he was congested.

This was the worst he had felt in a long while. "Matt," He called, although it was hardly louder than a whisper. When there was no answer he called again, forcing the name from his sore throat. _Ugh, why isn't he coming?_

Getting up was more difficult than it should have been. A wave of dizziness washed over him as he stood at his bed and wobbled dangerously. Balance finally found, Mello made his way out of the room, right hand placed against the wall for guidance, while his left hand held his head that kept violently spinning. "Matt, where the hell are you," He asked when he reached the living room, sure to find the stupid red head on the couch, playing his stupid games.

When there was still no answer he groaned and slowly sank into the couch, unable to stand any longer. It was cold, he noted, freezing. He leaned over to the other side of the couch, pulling at a dark red cotton blanket until the fabric completely covered all parts of his body aside from his face. His legs came up to tuck underneath him and provide more warmth. The blanket didn't help much as chills raced up and down his spine, shaking his body and forcing his teeth to chatter. Clenching his jaw to stop the sound only made his mouth hurt, adding to the list of the many things that made him miserable. His body was rebelling… and if he wasn't concentrating on how much everything _hurt_ he would be absolutely furious with it.

He wanted- no, needed, another blanket. Or a glass of water, some chocolate, a heater… was the heater even on? Did it break? His thoughts were cloudy and in no particular order and he refused to leave the little warmth he had created for himself to get these things he so very desperately needed.

Somehow, despite the incredible chills that ran over his body, his eyes drooped and a fitful sleep took over. For the next two hours he drifted in and out of consciousness, awakening to the horrible sensation only related to being trapped in a blizzard with a flimsy jacket as his only protection.

Mello couldn't keep track of the time, but there was a moment in which he woke up to a voice. Opening his eyes to a blurry world he faintly wondered about the moving blob of mixed colors hovering over him. A ringing sound that could be translated into his name only made him cringe at the volume. It made his head throb even more and Mello tried to tell the annoying thing to leave him alone, to _shut the hell up_. But the words sounded like a dying animal, soft and pathetic for someone such as Mello to utter and it hurt his own ears, so he quickly stopped trying, turning his head to bury his face in the blanket.

Suddenly the cotton covering him was pulled away, and he whined as a freezing air took its place. Blindly, he reached for the fabric yet only met a form of warped white and black colored clothing. Hands that were not his own came around him, picking him up bridal style and carrying him around the house as Mello struggled weakly.

A voice was talking in his ear, sounding panicked and distraught, but the words were something random that Mello couldn't decipher. All he knew was that it was cold and his only sense of warmth was taken away, he wanted back on the couch, where he could curl up in a blanket, otherwise he would die of exposure; frozen to death was not something he wanted on his tombstone. What a pathetic way for the great Mello to go.

He couldn't die of the cold. Not when he had something more important to do… although, at the moment, he struggled to remember what that was. He wanted chocolate too, L always gave him chocolate when he came to Whammy's. Maybe he would find him.

Yeah and when he went to school tomorrow, he would get a good grade on that stupid Math test. And that albino could shove his happy scores up his own ass because _he'd_ be number one.

Deftly, he huddled into the warmth of the other holding him, teeth chattering and body shaking; it was too cold to continue thinking. However, all too soon the heat was taken away and another whine escaped his throat as he was sat down on something ceramic and cold. He shivered as his shaking hands came up to battle with the stranger who now seemed intent on unzipping his vest.

No matter how much Mello willed his body into action, the person in front of him was too strong for his weakened state to fight and soon the only barrier from the harsh environment was taken away. Vest and pants on the ground, Mello tried to curl up as the enemy turned to do something else not far from him. If he had the strength Mello would have chosen the moment to run as the sound of loudly rushing water filled the room. _A waterfall at Whammy's… Roger would if he could, the stupid old man._

"Mello," He looked up at the stranger, wondering how this guy knew his name, for he was now sure the enemy was male by the pitch and tone of his voice. There was a sense of urgency in the way the man spoke but Mello couldn't focus. "-Have to take a bath to bring it down," He continued. And with those words said, the blond was picked up again, only this time he was sat in a tub of water that was _freezing_.

"No," His instant reaction was to thrash and his fist came down to hit the man on the head. The enemy grunted in pain but did not let the blond go. Sitting the rest of Mello into the bath, the man grabbed something from the counter and held it to Mello's mouth. There was a moment in which he clamped his lips shut stubbornly, but when he realized it was nothing more than a glass of water, he allowed the liquid passed his lips to sooth his sore throat.

The glass was emptied and set aside while the man used a wet wash rag to dampen the skin that was not submerged in the ice cold bath. "It's cold," Mello yelped.

"It's just room temperature water, you're fine," Was the answer, but Mello continued, seemingly not able to hear him.

"Stop trying to kill me, it's cold." _Where is Matt? Why isn't he here?_

"You're going to be fine, Mello."

After that the two repeated their lines over and over, as a never ending mantra. Mello faintly wondered what kind of reason this guy had to lose _his_ sanity… surely not a high fever. Obviously, the man was trying to reassure himself that Mello would be alright, which was weird. _The enemy cares, how sweet._

Was he making any sense? The ice fucking cold water must have gotten to his brain. He broke the regular line of 'it's cold' and let his anger show, "Let me out, bastard."

If anything, the man sounded _happy_ about the insult thrown at him for he actually had the guts to _laugh_, "It must be working, you're sounding like your normal self again. Let's just wait a little longer, okay?"

Mello was about to open his mouth and say "fuck no to that" but found another class of water at his lips and decided to drink instead. When the glass was once again empty, Mello's head cleared a bit. He looked up at the man he was considering how to kill for his impudence and was faced with a familiar shade of messy red hair and orange goggles. His thought process paused and something clicked, _Matt's trying to kill me?_

He immediately threw that notion out the window as another shiver coursed through him.

With the delirium that came with such a high fever going down rapidly, he was able to focus with better results on the situation. He observed the chill that constantly presented itself to him and the need for this sudden bath.

Although the reason was clearer now, the shivers only shook his thin frame more violently. And now that Matt was here he could definitely help, "Matt, get me some hot chocolate and turn up the heater. It's cold."

Not deterred in the slightest, the man continued to wash the fevered skin in front of him, gently scrubbing the remains of dried sweat off the pale body. "One thing at a time, Mel."

When his body was considered clean, and his violent shivering lessened, he was pulled out of the bath and dried thoroughly with a towel before getting clothed in loose, breathable cotton pajamas, as apposed to his leather.

Carried into the living room and deposited on the couch, the man, now known as Matt, strolled into the kitchen. Not a minute later and he was back, handing the blond two extra strength Motrin fever-reducer pills and another glass of water. "Lie down and sleep for a while," The red head said, helping Mello ease across the couch and get comfortable.

When the blond stilled, face buried in the blanket from before (Matt told him not to cover up with it, so he was instead using it as a pillow), he turned to look at Matt taking the place on the floor directly in front of the couch, back facing him. Suddenly, he was reminded of their argument and a shiver, unlike the others, floated across his skin. "Matt," He called softly and the messy red hair shifted to look at him. The goggles he usually wore now hung around his neck to allow Mello a clear view into those jade green eyes.

Immediately, Mello could see the entirety of Matt's worries reflecting in the beautiful orbs. The gamer was never able to completely hid his feelings; just another reason to wear the orange tinted goggles. "Are you really going to leave?"

It took a fraction of a second to realize the subject Mello was asking on and the eyes softened considerably. Unable to make eye contact, Matt turned to stare at a game case not too far away; Gears of War 2, one of the new ones he bought not long ago. "Don't you want me to," He asked, uncertainly.

"No," And Mello's voice was strong despite his state of being, causing Matt's eyes to widen as he looked back into a crazed blue. "Am I not allowed to be afraid?"

"N-no, but you…" Matt's response fell, and he searched for the right words, "You've never shown fear before, Mello. You've come so far; going through the mafia- you weren't afraid of that. So… why now?"

"You weren't with me when I was in the mafia, Matt."

"But you weren't scared of it, I know you weren't!"

A long pause, Mello shivered and shifted to huddle more into him-self, taking the time to think on his next response. "Matt… I'm not afraid of dying. I was unafraid of the mafia because I had nothing to lose but my _own_ life. Back then, a mistake on my part got people who didn't matter killed. That is not the case now. If I make a wrong decision on this… you will go down as well. That is why I am… hesitant."

He would never admit his fear, not even if he was placed in the hands of torturers with countless clever instruments of persuasion. But Matt knew what he meant, and by the stunned look on his face, was definitely not expecting such a deep answer. Mello took advantage of the silence, "That's why I left you at Whammy's; with you around I _can't_ be careless. But you followed me like a little dog; always jumping head first into danger in order to save my ass, you're worse then me when it comes to thinking before you act… That's saying something."

Somewhere in the middle of his sentence a slow smile started to creep up on Matt's stupid-cute face and Mello started to glare because he knew it was coming.

A hug.

Ugh, he was sick, his head still hurt, he felt like a fucking girl for spilling out his _feelings_ and now he had to do the comforting thing because Matt was even more like a girl. However, when the arms wrapped around his waist and a face leaned into his chest, Mello couldn't find the strength to yell at the red head and instead lifted his heavy and achy arms to return the affection. Besides, Mello had an ulterior motive; heat.

Matt's muffled voice washed over him as Mello tried to greedily take his warmth with nonexistent Jedi mind powers. _Oh great, Matt would laugh his ass off if he knew I just made a reference to the stupid game/ movie/ whatever the hell else it is._

"Thank you, Mello. But if I don't save your ass, who will? Besides, I'm not afraid of dying either, you know. The fact that I'm here should prove that."

"Good, because I can't promise any of my plans will work," Mello answered, pulling Matt's body closer to his. The red head laughed as he was pulled almost completely on top of the blond.

"What the hell are you trying to do, Mel?"

"I'm fucking cold! You won't let me have the blanket and this is the result, now shut up."

Matt laughed again, checking the blonde's forehead for the millionth time that day as he settled down next to the man. With a smile he said, in a quiet voice, "Go to sleep, you'll feel better when you wake up."

There were no protests and Mello snuggled in his place, trapped comfortably between Matt and the back of the couch. It was warm here and his shivers had all but stopped. Not a moment after his eyes closed, Mello was taken by the friendly darkness of sleep where his dreams were warm and inviting and everything was whole again.

….**Author's Note**….

Thanks for reading, please review!

For those of you who waited, sorry it took so long. Got carried away on the highway of life; there was lots of traffic, a few wrecks, I got a speeding ticket, spilt my coffee all over the seat… yeah, so thanks for putting up with me. You guys absolutely rule. :)

Have fun, life is too short to do otherwise.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Death Note.


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